


Breakin' Out the Institution

by PanBoleyn



Series: I'll Bet Against the House (I'll Even Double Down) [1]
Category: Conviction, Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, legit!AU, yes another one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:52:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“OK, so, before we start, a few things you should know about me. My name’s Mike Ross, not Rick Sorkin. I am a lawyer, I just didn’t go to Harvard. But you should hear me out anyway.”</p><p>Where Mike is actually a lawyer, a Brooklyn ADA looking for a change of pace, and gatecrashes Harvey's interviews entirely on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakin' Out the Institution

It all really starts when Mike goes out for a drink with a couple of the other young ADAs from the office. Brian mocks them as he leaves, joking about the good old days when he was a fresh young attorney and not the Bureau Chief who’s married with a kid and can only stay for one drink.

“And you always say you’d never trade Chris and Abby for the world, Bri, though maybe you just say that because we’re friends with some of her employees in Manhattan,” Mike fires back, and Brian laughs.

“That’s very true.”

“Which? You wouldn’t trade them or the fact that we could tell on you?”

“Both, man, come on.”

After he leaves, they end up at a sushi bar, as much for the sake as the food, a place a lot of young criminal lawyers mix - and some of the corporate gang, when they decide to come down from their glass towers in Midtown anyway. Drew’s telling a story about the summer he spent in Tokyo and comparing the sashimi to the place around the corner from his school’s Japan campus when Rick Sorkin joins them. Rick’s not a bad guy, for all he’s a Manhattan guy instead of Brooklyn like the rest of them. “Drew’s making an ass of himself again, that why you look so grumpy?” Mike asks with a lopsided grin.

He might be a little tipsy, but he just sent a seventeen year old to jail for murder of a sixteen year old, if he’s drinking a bit much he thinks he’s entitled.

“Nah, just - it’s stupid, but a couple of the corporate firms I tried before I learned the joys of criminal law still have me on their list. I mean, if I wanted to switch gears it’d be great; as it is I keep having e-mails to delete. Pearson Hardman again - really, if I wanted to work with no one but the whiny rich kids I went to school with I’d have never gone criminal.”

“Oh, poor Harvard boy, so in demand,” Mike mocks him. OK, maybe he’s more than slightly tipsy, and maybe Rick’s ‘problem’ pisses him off. Because he’s been trying to go corporate ever since he realized that his eidetic memory meant along with every police report, which he could handle, his mind would store every crime scene photo, every suffering victim, every grieving family, the handful of crime scenes he’d been forced to go to in person…

Too much, and all of it awful. Like he doesn’t have nightmares enough. But apparently Braxton Gould wants more experience, and Lawson-Evans only hires from Columbia. So on and so forth, the same things boiling down to “you’re not good enough for our fancy hallways”. And of course there’s Pearson Hardman, who are just as much a bunch of pompous fucks and only hire from Harvard. Mike applied to Harvard once upon a time, but truth was even with the money they were willing to give, it wasn’t enough to pay for his expenses and Grammy’s. Or Edith’s, because he hasn’t been able to call her Grammy much in the past few years without confusing her.

So he stayed with Hudson University through undergrad and law school, instead, and he wouldn’t regret except it’s the only thing people seem to notice on his resume.

“My lot in life is so horrible,” Rick’s agreeing when Mike forces himself to pay attention again, hands clasped to his chest like the drama club dork he happily tells people he was all through school.

“Bet I could get any job you could - if I could get in the door anyway,” Mike says, stealing a piece of sashimi with his chopsticks before Andrea can get to it. Rick laughs.

“If you could get in the door. I mean, Mike, it’s not like you can just show up, they’ve got names and lists and shit.” Then Rick gets a weird look on his face. “Hey, you wanna put your money where your mouth is?”

Mike’s eyes narrow, and he leans in a little. “Try me.” After all, what has he got to lose?

“All right. Pearson Hardman’s got a new senior partner who’s holding interviews for a personal associate the day after tomorrow. I’m on the list; I’m not going. Get in with my name, see how far you get.”

The idea is crazy, and when Mike agrees he does so in a sake-fueled bad mood. But the morning of the interviews he still hasn’t changed his mind. He texts Rick to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind - he hasn’t, apparently. So Mike puts on his best suit and heads for the Chilton Hotel.

His bus is late so by the time he actually gets there he’s running behind. Once inside the hotel he breaks into a sprint, racing up the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. Below him he can hear other people running - there’s shouting as well and it sounds like the kind of trouble he wants to avoid.

Still, it turns out to be good for him, because when he gets to the assigned room, a dark-eyed redhead gives him a truly unimpressed look. “Rick Sorkin?”

Well shit. Apparently he, personally - sort of - is late. Not a good opening. Mike nods, waiting to see what comes next. Meanwhile, he notices that several of the other interviewees look terribly downtrodden. If that’s the goal… Maybe he can work with...

“You are five minutes late. Is there any reason why I should let you in?”

Mike’s mind, usually so busy, goes blank. But then he remembers what he heard in the stairwell, and out of nowhere he recalls someone he pled out, who ran right into a fan convention event and outright admitted he was fleeing the cops. It had been one of his funnier cases, one he didn’t mind having stored forever in his mind. “Look, I’m just trying to get away from the cops, I don’t really care if you let me in or not.”

It’s a crazy move, based on it being the only thing that came into Mike’s head to say and the fact that everyone else looks like they’ve been crushed by this woman’s very nice, very scary heels. He should be showing he’s not going to get crushed. Even so, it shouldn’t work, and no one is more surprised than Mike when Red grins at him. “Mr. Specter will be right with you.”

Holy shit.

Mike doesn’t catch the look Red exchanges with Mr. Specter when he steps out, but whatever it is, it’s enough that Mike gets a curious look, assessing. He shakes Specter’s hand and follows the other man into the other room, settling in the chair in front of the desk as Specter moves behind it. Mike takes a deep breath. Time to roll the dice.

“OK, so, before we start, a few things you should know about me. My name’s Mike Ross, not Rick Sorkin. I am a lawyer, I just didn’t go to Harvard. But you should hear me out anyway.”

\---

Harvey stares at the kid for a moment, taken entirely off guard. He remembers telling Jessica that they need to expand, and he feels vindicated already because almost no Harvard kid he’s ever met would have the balls to walk into an interview he knew he didn’t belong in. Although part of that is, most Harvard grads automatically assume they’re welcome anywhere, which tends to be true except for havens of other Ivy Leagues.

So he leans back in his chair. “OK, hotshot. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kick you out and move on to someone actually qualified for this job?”

Mike Ross grins at him. “Because I’m better than any of them out there and I can prove it.”

“Then do it. But first, I want to know you’re actually a lawyer.” Because someone who uses a fake name to get in could be anyone, after all.

“All right.” The kid fishes in his pocket and tosses a badge on the desk. Harvey picks it up and studies it; it’s one he knows well, a D.A. badge very like the one he once carried, only for Brooklyn instead of Manhattan.

“OK, so you’re for real, but I still don’t know what makes you think you had a chance at this.”

“What if I told you I consume knowledge like no one you’ve ever met?”

“Then I’d say you’re full of crap, and ask for a demonstration. Again.”

That gets him a smirk. “OK. That BarBri Legal Handbook on your desk. Open it to any page you like and start reading it out. You want proof, I’ll give it to you.” There’s a challenging light in the younger man’s eyes, and it’s that as much as curiosity that has Harvey opening the book to a random page.

“Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors, including -”

“Including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable inference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff, and the nature of the damages themselves.”

It isn’t the knowledge that surprises Harvey. He knows it just as well. However, to quote it from the book word for word is not something he could do, at least not without refreshing his memory in preparation to use the point. He certainly wouldn’t be able to rattle it off like a grocery list.

Just to be sure, he tries it twice more. Mike Ross rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but duly spouts the next paragraphs back at Harvey, word for word. Finally, Harvey gets up. “Fire up this laptop, I’ll show you what a Harvard-trained lawyer can do.”

“Will you?” The question is asked with a little half-smile, bright with mischief, taking the sting out of the implied insult. Harvey rolls his eyes.

“Pick a topic.”

“Stock option backdating.”

“Although backdating options is legal, violations arose related to disclosures under RIC section 409A.”

Mike shakes his head. “You forgot about Sarbanes-Oxley.”

“The statute of limitations render Sarbanes-Oxley moot post-2007.”

“Well, not if you can find actions to cover up the violation as established in the Sixth Circuit May 2008.”

And Harvey’s stuck. “Well played, but you're sitting at a computer.”

The kid fucking beams at him, spinning the laptop around to show nothing open but a game of solitaire. “Playing cards. Sorry, if you want to beat me, you're gonna have to do it at something else.”

“Okay, look, this is all pretty fascinating stuff but I'm afraid I gotta get back to work,” Harvey says, walking to the door with every intention of showing Mike Ross out. Sure, the kid’s good and he’s a lawyer, but Jessica will have his ass if he tries to hire someone from another school, and it’s a hassle Harvey doesn’t want. Except… When he looks out at the six men still waiting their turn, he's left feeling only annoyed. They’re the same limp noodles he’s been dealing with all day.

He turns back to Mike.

“If you want this job so much, why didn't you just go to Harvard?”

This time the smile he gets is sharp and bitter. “I got in, actually. I’ve got the acceptance letter if you want to see it. Not on me of course, but I can provide it. But here’s the thing. Hudson University is where I did my undergrad on a full scholarship, they offered me the same deal if I stayed through law school. I applied to Harvard, and Columbia, but I couldn’t get that, and without it I couldn’t afford it.”

“There’s such a thing as loans,” Harvey points out.

“Yeah, but federal loans still didn’t cover everything and I couldn’t get a private loan, no one to cosign.”

“You don’t have any family?”

And he clearly touched on a sore spot from the way the kid goes rigid in his seat. “My grandmother isn’t fit to sign anything and there’s no one else. My old caseworker sure as hell wouldn’t have signed a damn thing for me, same for any of my ex-guardians.”

Oh yeah, quite a sore spot. Harvey studies the younger man, and really this isn’t a good idea. Jessica won’t be happy, he’ll have to listen to another lecture… But there’s something about this kid, a spark sadly lacking in any of the real applicants. Something that Harvey remembers from when he was a screw-up kid in the Gordon, Schmidt, and Van Dyke mailroom.

He can - probably - talk Jessica around.

“All right, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go home and use that perfect memory to do some research and teach yourself why that suit is completely unacceptable. If all your suits are like that… I’d say burn them, but you can donate them to the nearest Goodwill if you’re feeling generous. Next time I see you, have a better suit. You have a resume? A business card? Also, that messenger bag, are you serious?”

“Yes, yes, and what does my bag have to do with anything?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Give me a copy of your resume and your card. I’m going to talk to my boss and see if we can’t make an exception in our Harvard only rule.”

\---

“Elena, you have a couple hours for me?” Mike drums his fingers on his kitchen counter, watching through his window as the couple across the way has a fight in full view of their window aga- Oh, ok, they’re ending their fights that way again? Really, if that’s how they roll they ought to invest in proper curtains. He turns away, shaking his head.

Elena sighs on the other end, the put-upon sound Mike recalls from interrupting her when she was drawing - sorry, designing. “I can probably spare them, why?”

“Apparently my suits are fit only for Goodwill.”

“Well, no shit Mike. I mean, getting them adjusted to fit better might help, but it’s still not going to be enough. Who finally got you to see the light?”

“I may have bullshitted my way into an interview for a law firm that only hires from Harvard, and then proceeded to convince the man looking for an associate to talk to his boss about giving me a chance. Assuming it actually works I should probably have at least one suit of the kind needed for swimming with the fancy sharks." Saying it out loud kind of cements how insane all of this is, Mike reflects.

"Damn," Elena says. "You're right, though, you definitely need better suits for that." He can hear rustling over the phone. "Lucky for you I'm officially off today."

Which means spending all her time working on her own clothing designs, since she doesn't have Runway copy to edit. Mike feels a little guilty, but not very when she says, "Oh, and we're getting you more than one suit."

Elena is kind enough not to make him spend too ridiculous an amount of money. They've known each other since McKinney Hall, the temporary dumping place for foster kids in between placements. Neither of them came out with much, college degrees earned thanks to scholarships. Elena survives in the high fashion atmosphere by the use of vintage, something called The Closet, free things employees of Runway apparently just get sometimes, and the occasional, _very good_ knockoff. So instead of taking him to some fancy tailor with designer names plastered everywhere, he finds himself in a small, out-of-the-way shop.

The tailor, Andrew Jenkins, has a faint Southern drawl, and he and Elena spend the whole time talking about things Mike can barely follow. He might be a certified genius but high fashion is way, way beyond him. So he lets their conversation wash over him as Andrew measures and has him try on different jackets to get an idea of which shades of grey and navy and black suit him. (Who knew there were multiple shades of navy and black?)

He ends up with six suits in the end, and twelve ties - according to both Andrew and Elena wearing different ties and switching up his shirts (those, Elena tells him, are passable) will help stretch his wardrobe. Mike points out that he does know a little about suits and he really didn’t need any ties.

“Yes, yes you did need ties. Hush, we let you keep the skinny thing going, no more complaining,” Elena says, covering Mike’s mouth when he goes to object again. Mike rolls his eyes and gives up. She did him a favor, he can play nice for now.

\---

“I tell you to pick an associate and you come back to me with some kid who doesn’t even qualify?” Jessica isn’t quite giving him a death glare, so Harvey counts it as a win. Not that she looks much happier, but she’s listening, curious as to what’s got him pushing this, if nothing else. “We hire from Harvard and nowhere else, we just had this conversation.”

“I know that, but the people I interviewed were pathetic. Ask Donna, she was even less impressed than I was. This guy crashed it like he had every right to be there, and…” Harvey doesn’t really want to admit this, but he does, because she’s got to get his reasons here. “He beat me. He’s practically a walking law encyclopedia - claims he’s got a perfect memory.”

Jessica studies him. “Harvey, the rule is there for a reason.”

“He turned Harvard down,” Harvey says flatly. “He explained why, I looked into it. They offered him a partial scholarship, Hudson here in New York gave him a full ride, and he’s got a dependent. It was the smart choice.”

“A kid?”

“No, his grandmother is in a nursing home.” And she was declared an unfit guardian for health reasons when Mike was thirteen but Harvey doesn’t mention that. It’s an odd discomfort, realizing he doesn’t feel right bringing that up.

“Harvey -”

“You plucked me out of the mailroom and sent me to Harvard. I wouldn’t have had a chance without that - I’d have been lucky to get into any law school at all after the way I fucked around in undergrad. Hudson isn't Harvard, but they've got a decent reputation. And we need something different around here - you know that as well as I do, Jessica.”

There’s a long, silent moment. “I want to meet the kid. If he can convince me the way he clearly did you - and that’s a big if, Harvey - then you can have him. And you’re going to owe me Tylenol and red wine for the complaints I know I’ll hear from Louis.”

It’s the opening Harvey needed. Sure, he’d have preferred if Jessica would just trust his judgment, but this is still a good start.

\---

Mike meets Harvey in the Pearson Hardman lobby, still feeling a bit uncomfortable in the new, navy blue suit. “Oh, you listened to me. Except for the skinny tie,” Harvey says, rolling his eyes. “Oh well, too late now. Come on.”

“Yeah, you never said exactly what this meeting was,” Mike says, falling into step with him. Harvey shrugs.

“Jessica wants to meet you. She doesn’t trust my judgment.”

Well, that doesn’t sound exactly promising. Mike’s seen Jessica Pearson before, not in person but there were a couple of newspaper articles and he looked her up after the interview with Harvey. She’s more intimidating in person, probably because she’s so damn tall. And Mike’s pretty sure it’s not just the heels. So yeah, he’s polite when he steps inside her office. “Hello, ma’am.”

“Sit down, kid. I’m not going to eat you. Not yet anyway.”

“I’m probably too skinny to be worth eating,” Mike quips before he can stop himself. It earns him a slight quirk of lips, not enough to be called a smile, before Jessica glances at Harvey, standing by the door.

“For now. Why don’t you tell me why I should let this moron hire you after all?”

Her gaze shifts back to him and Mike leans forward a little, meeting her eyes squarely. “Because I’ve got more nerve than all the official applicants put together, I’ve got a great record with the Brooklyn DA, and I’m a walking law library.”

“Oh, is that all?” Jessica asks, and there’s a definite mocking edge to her voice.

“I think I proved the first already, the second’s on file, and I can prove the third.”

“Harvey’s always been a sucker for theatrics. And I don’t doubt your work with the DA; I spoke to your Bureau Chief, Brian Peluso, this morning,” she tells him, leaning back in her seat and surveying him.

Mike nods. “Brian did say he got a call about me.” Right before he gave Mike a semi-joking lecture about turning traitor.

“Well, he says you’re quite the little whiz kid with a sharp set of teeth.”

“That sounds like Brian.”

“He said I’d be a fool if I didn’t hire you.”

There’s something in how she says that… “I’ll have to thank him for that,” Mike says carefully.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m not entirely convinced.”

Mike had a feeling that was it. So he settles into his chair and smiles his most winning smile. “All right, fair enough. So how can I convince you?”

Jessica gives him a shark smile. “Why do you want this job? Your party tricks can wait, I want to know why. Oh, and Harvey?” She points to the door. “Out.” Once Harvey leaves, looking a bit regretful, Jessica turns back to Mike, raising an eyebrow as if to say, I’m waiting.

Mike takes a deep breath. “I love being a lawyer. I’ve got a whole sob story on why I wanted it in the first place but you don’t want to hear that. I picked criminal law and that was a mistake - a memory like mine is not useful when you look at evidence of violent crime all day. But I need the high stakes or I’ll be bored in a month. Corporate law at this level is high stakes, it’s just… Poker instead of roulette.”

“God, you even sound like him already,” Jessica mutters, then nods. “All right, Mr. Ross. You get a chance to surprise me.”

Mike grins. “You won’t be disappointed.”

“We’ll see. Now get out. Oh, and tell your boss next time he wants to be a pain in my ass, he’d better rethink the idea.”

Mike considers saluting, thinks better of it, and leaves with a nod. Harvey’s outside still, and he grins at the look on Mike’s face. “I’m in,” Mike tells him, like Harvey hadn’t already guessed. “Oh, but Jessica wants you to know that the next time you decide to be a pain in her ass, you’d better rethink the idea.”

Harvey laughs, and they fall into step again. “She loves me.”

Mike scoffs. “Oh, yeah, I could feel the love.”

“Cute. You start tomorrow, rookie.”

\---

The first case goes pretty well, except for Mike sticking his foot in his mouth with Rachel Zane (it’s simply that she’s astonishingly pretty, he really wasn’t trying to hit on her) and Louis Litt being a fucking asshole. He was expecting sidelong looks and sneers from the other associates, but to have the associate supervisor saying “The second you step wrong I will make sure you’re done, and you will because there’s a reason we only take the best. No one else matches up.”

Mike had, at the time, considered saying he turned Harvard down, but he thought better of it. Lashing out at someone who can get him fired? Not a good idea. Of course, just now he’s kind of wishing he did, as Louis waves a failed drug test in front of his face and tells him to go smoke up with Tom Keller and woo him.

See here’s the thing. Mike’s smoked pot before. It clouds his mind just enough to give him a break from the constant whirl, and being high feels good anyway. But he hasn’t done it recently. The DA drug tests too, and he’s also been too damn busy for the past year to even think about it. If he needs to cloud his head for a while he gets drunk, though usually not that either because of hangovers from hell the next day. So he knows the test is bullshit.

Trouble is, he can’t prove that, can he? So he slumps his shoulders and nods, then goes off to talk to Tom Keller. He wins Keller all right, but he doesn’t win him for Louis.

Back at the firm, he makes a beeline for Harvey’s office. “So, the good news is I just got you a client. The bad news is Louis has it out for me.”

Harvey glances up from his computer - if you can call that mini laptop a computer. Mike’s hands ache just thinking about trying to type on that thing for any length of time. “You’re my associate, which means he was always going to have it out for you. You’re not a Harvard purebred, so he’s going to hate you even more. He was whining to me about sullying the purity of the firm or some kind of bullshit. Ignore him.”

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up as he drops onto Harvey’s couch. “Ignore him? Harvey, I hate to break it to you, but in case you’ve forgotten your own days in Cubicle Town, I have to answer to him as associate supervisor almost as much as you.” Technically Mike’s pretty sure that’s how it works, though a curly-haired associate named Harold warned him that Louis doesn’t always respect the first rights of a partner when it comes to their personal associate.

Mike likes Harold, shy and nervous as he is. He’s one of the only ones who hasn’t looked down his nose at Mike. But that’s not important just now. Getting Harvey to pay attention is. “Not to mention he just tried to blackmail me.”

That gets Harvey’s focus on him, and out of the corner of his eye Mike sees Donna spin around in her chair to look at them. Wait - does she listen? Not important, he can find that out later. “How did he do that?” Harvey asks, and Mike tries not to be annoyed at the suspicion in Harvey’s voice.

“Had my drug test results. Supposedly. Here’s the thing. They tested positive for pot, which I don’t smoke. At least, not anytime recently enough to fail a drug test. DA’s office tests too, I’m not a complete idiot.” Though he had been jealous as hell watching Keller smoke up - turned out keeping the guy sober company was almost as good as actually getting high with him when it came to sealing the deal.

Harvey’s eyes narrow. “Stay here.” He walks out, heading God knows where, and Mike rolls his eyes. The sound of heels clicking makes him look up to see Donna standing in front of him.

“That test had better be fake,” she tells him sweetly. Mike tilts his head.

“There a reason you don’t trust me?”

“No, and I’m not saying I think it’s real. I’m just saying if it is, after you pushed for this job, I’ll kick your ass before Harvey gets a chance.”

Mike has to laugh a little. “Duly noted. Hey, so how often do you listen on your intercom?”

That gets him a smirk and a laugh before Donna says, “Always. He hasn’t figured out he can turn it off from his side yet, and he’s had an office for seven years. It’s really kind of sad. It took him two years to even realize I was doing it and that’s only because I made it obvious.”

“Is this how you know everything about everyone? Your reputation precedes you.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

Mike may have said something else, but he’s interrupted when Harvey stalks back in, a paper in hand that he thrusts at Mike’s face. Mike takes it, scowling as he reads. “Son of a bitch. I knew it.” It’s the results from his real drug test, clear except for Imitrex, which is a perfectly legitimate migraine drug that he has a prescription for. It’s kind of impressive how detailed their drug tests are - though he supposes since people can abuse prescription drugs (or even over-the-counter if they’re stubborn enough)  it makes sense. “I have a script for the Imitrex,” he comments.

“I’m sure you do,” Harvey tells him, voice clipped. “I’m going to kick Louis’ ass. Unless…” He gives Mike a long, speculative look. “You want to do the honors?”

Well, if he can, it might go a long way to shutting Louis up, at least for a little while. Mike nods slowly. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Good boy.”

That’s an odd choice of words, and it definitely shouldn’t leave Mike feeling decidedly… odd, in a good way. So he just ignores it and goes off to shut Louis down. For now.

**  
  
**

\---

Harvey pays for the rookie dinner because Mike’s proving he was worth the extra hassle it took to hire him, winning over Dominic at the last minute. Then there’s the pro bono case, which really should have gone better - anyone can win in housing court but then maybe that’s why coming up against an experienced attorney knocked Mike sideways. But it all worked out in the end and Harvey got to watch Mike take Vivien Tanaka down a few pegs, and that was fun.

A lot of that good feeling is gone just now, though, considering Mike answered his phone in the middle of a meeting and is now acting cagey as hell about it. To top it all off, he’s managed to convince Joy to retire. Harvey doesn’t have a clue how he managed that, though Mike said something about making polite conversation regarding how active Joy still is for an older woman. How he said that politely Harvey’s not sure but Mike has this wide-eyed genuine vibe when he wants to, so that’s probably how he did it.

Harvey can’t entirely blame him, annoyed as he is, because sometimes you accidentally trigger ideas in people. He is frustrated by Mike’s attempts to fix it - Mike’s still too new to this kind of law to know how to play this, he needs to just let Harvey handle it. And from the cases they’ve already worked, Mike should know that.

So Harvey puts it down to whatever that phone call was about, and between Joy and this mess with Ray and the idiot cab driver, he’s got no time for the kid’s bullshit. “When you answered your phone earlier, who was it?”

Mike freezes, expression going blank. Harvey stares him down, waiting. Finally, Mike sighs. “I’ve got this friend, Trevor. He’s… mixed up in some shit, I’m trying to help him out. It’s not a big deal, and I won’t let it affect the job again. It was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?” Harvey doesn’t know much about Mike’s backstory aside from the dry facts Vanessa found for him, but he knows a lot of ex-foster kids fall through the cracks, get into trouble.

“He needed me to bail him out.”

Oh great. “Have you even thought about how it looks, to be running out of the office to get someone out of lockup? Is that really the impression you wanna leave around here?”

Mike’s eyes flash. “Don’t act like you know a damn thing about it, Harvey!” he snaps. “Trevor is my oldest friend, ok? He - he and his parents kept an eye on my grandmother when I couldn’t because the damn system took me away from her. He’s helped me out when money was tight, and no, his help wasn’t always aboveboard but he was there. So I’m gonna be there for him, whatever you have to say about it.”

Harvey knows a losing battle when he sees one, and he supposes he doesn’t really know enough about the situation to tell Mike to cut this guy loose. So he lets it go, at least for the moment. Mike says he’ll keep it out of work, and Harvey takes him at his word as he prepares for Ray’s trial and sets up Joy with her grandchildren, knowing they’re going to drive her nuts.

That plan goes off without a hitch, but it’s dampened somewhat by the odd tear on Mike’s jacket and his evasive answers on how he got it. Harvey doesn’t like this, the situation feels bad, but what exactly can he say about it? Mike’s a grown man and besides, it’s not like he cares.

Or rather, it’s not like he wants anyone, especially Mike, to realize he might care a bit.

Harvey knows he has the cab driver when he asks what color the light was, which is why he repeats the question, stepping closer and holding the man’s gaze. He feels a bit of pity for him - the guy’s an ass but in the end Harvey can’t quite bring himself to throw the book at him. So instead he approaches the judge and offers a deal - not, of course, without making sure no one talks about it. He has a reputation to maintain.

All that is forgotten when Mike’s phone rings, again. He’s going to strangle that kid, especially when he leaves the courtroom and doesn’t come back. Harvey wraps things up quickly and goes after him, catching up about a block from the courthouse. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, leaving in the middle of a trial?” he snaps, catching Mike by the arm. Mike turns around, jerking out of Harvey’s grasp.

“Look, Harvey, I have to go. You can’t stop me.”

“This is about that Trevor guy?”

“Yeah, look, I need to -” Mike tries to walk by him; Harvey stops him with both hands on the younger man’s chest, pushing him back a step.

“Then tell me, what the hell is going on?”

The story isn’t that surprising, not really. Once Harvey gets past the utter stupidity of a former ADA not cutting ties with a friend who’s a pot dealer. But that this Trevor guy owes people money and they apparently decided to shake down Mike for it explains why he’s been edgy, explains the tear in his suit jacket. “How did they find out where you work?”

“I must have left my business card - Trevor was messing around, pulled it out of my wallet and we kinda left in a hurry.”

“Next time don’t leave your business card. All right, here’s what we’re going to do.”

The truth is, it’s almost fun to intimidate these drug dealers into backing down. And he talked Mike into sending Trevor off to Montana to get away from anyone else who might be looking for him - and to get him away from Mike for a while. Harvey’s sure that given a chance he can talk the kid out of this ill-advised friendship.

\---

Considering he was focused on proving a woman's innocence, it's no surprise that Mike forgets about the mock trial. Especially since, in all honesty, he thinks it's kind of a joke. Mock trials were all well and good in school, but they're in the real world now. He doesn't see the point.

So when Donna says it's like a debutante ball, that it could make or break careers among the associates, Mike scoffs. Donna gives him a withering look, poking him in the chest. "This is even more important for you, Hudson."

"Oh?"

"You don't think they're going to want to cut you down most of all?"

And, OK, Mike sees her point, especially when he’s paired against Kyle Durant who was apparently mock trial champion in high school, college, and law school. Wait - high schools have mock trials? Mike’s had a debate team, but not a mock trial team. Then Louis says, “Good luck to both of you,” before looking directly at Mike and whispering, “Not really.”

Oh brother. This is going to be stellar, isn’t it?

The only bright side, theoretically, is that the partners aren’t supposed to use the associates unless there’s an emergency. Clearly, no one told Harvey that, or he simply doesn’t care. Probably the latter, because when Mike points this out all he gets is a Look and a brief moment of advice. “Don’t go to trial,” Harvey says. Easy for him to say. Though it’s possible it might work, assuming Kyle cooperates.

But, hey, at least Mike now knows Harvey’s a Trekkie, which means he’s probably a closet sci-fi geek in general. Totally worth knowing.

The frustrating part is, of course, that Harvey’s advice might well have worked, except Mike was an idiot. And he can admit he was an idiot. He should have gotten Kyle’s agreement in writing. Of course Kyle is an asshole who pretends to agree to settle and then pulls the rug out. Mike just barely remembers Bowmaster v. Whitely, which means he gets time to prepare for a trial when a settlement has been agreed on and then one party reneges. Jessica giving him five minutes? Probably not that reasonable but it’s five minutes of time he didn’t have before. Rachel stops to ask if he’s okay, which he’s not, but he appreciates it. He does not appreciate Kyle showing up saying “I’ll have to ask you not to speak to my client,” but he probably wouldn’t appreciate Kyle breathing right now. Though he does owe him, because when he accuses Kyle of lying yet again Kyle spouts some bullshit about suing him for defamation and -

Lightbulb moment.

“Are we ready?” Jessica asks.

“Ready, Your Honor.” Mike stands. “The defendant wishes to countersue.”

The people watching murmur, and Kyle sits up from his slouch. “On what grounds?”

Jessica gives him a cool look. “I believe that’s my line, Counselor,” before looking at Mike. “Counselor?”

Mike meets Kyle’s eyes, and he knows there’s a little smirk on his face. “Defamation of character. Plaintiff’s video negatively impacted the perception of Lena Lunders and impaired her financial well-being. She deserves to be compensated.”

“That’s ridiculous, Your Honor,” Kyle says, faint alarm in his eyes. “For there to be defamation the statements made would have to be false. That’s not the case here.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem proving that in court,” Mike fires back ,and suddenly he understands at least one upside to mock trials. He’s missed this, trying cases outright, and hell, now that they’re going for a countersuit he’s back in something close to the prosecutor’s chair. This is familiar, this is better than settling, whatever Harvey says. Assuming it works.

“The countersuit is allowed,” Jessica rules.

“Are you serious?” Kyle blurts out, and Mike has to appreciate the guy’s nerve, because mock trial context or not he kind of just sassed the managing partner.

“You want to approach the bench and see how serious I am?”

Mike and Kyle approach the bench. Jessica hands over two new case binders, one for each of them. Kyle - and Mike really, really has to give some credit for his tenacity in the face of Jessica clearly being in a bad mood - insists, “Your Honor, defense should have filed counterclaims before the trial -” He shuts up abruptly when Jessica gives him a Look.

“Yes,” she says. “He should have. But no one in this crop of associates had the foresight to do so. And we drafted a whole addendum just because we assumed someone would.”

Oh shit. No wonder she’s pissed off. She continues, “So, I’m going to allow it. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“This is a defamation trial now. You have until Friday to prepare.” Jessica bangs her gavel and Kyle goes back to his desk, Louis hurrying over to meet him. Oh, great. So Louis is feeding Kyle extra advice. Of course he is. He’s probably hoping if Mike loses he can point to that as proof that he doesn’t measure up to Harvard grads. Son of a bitch.

Mike’s drawn from his annoyance by Jessica’s voice. “Nice recovery. Thinking on your feet. But you wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t so naive - which I would have thought the Brooklyn DA would’ve knocked out of you. I hope it did at least teach you not every judge will be as accomodating as I am.”

Mike nods, gripping his binder tightly as he walks out. OK. He needs a game plan. First, get witnesses. Second… Get some fucking advice. And not from Harvey, since he doesn’t seem to give a damn about this. Because Mike is not going to let Kyle and Louis railroad him. Fuck no. Whatever it takes.

\---

“Didn’t your new boss give you advice on this shit?” Brian asks, looking at him across the table in their old favorite diner after Mike fills him in on the mock trial events so far. Mike remembers the end of his first week at the Brooklyn DA, Brian practically dragging him here by the scruff of his neck to decompress. All their people come here for that, or just to hang out when they can’t afford to risk a hangover from visiting the local bar.

“Kind of? I mean, his first suggestion wasn’t bad, I fucked that up by taking Kyle at his word.”

“Yeah, and why did you do that? Didn’t the Bancanor case teach you anything?”

Mike winces. The burglary trial in question had almost been a fiasco because Mike let the defense attorney play him like a fiddle. “Maybe I still haven’t wrapped my head around the guys next to me being rivals, you know? I mean back with you maybe we weren’t all buddy buddy but the politicking and power plays weren’t at our level, we were mostly in the trenches together.”

“Yeah, well, you’re in a different game now, bud.” Brian dunks a few fries in ketchup, washes them down with coffee, then shrugs. “So, you said this guy picked a girl for his plaintiff that you like, right? Like as in she’s a cool friend or you wanna tap that?”

Mike chokes on his milkshake. “Jesus, Brian. I mean, Rachel’s gorgeous but she doesn’t date coworkers. I’m not gonna push her on that, I figure she’s got her reasons. But it does make the idea of cross-examining her kind of uncomfortable.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Brian says flatly. “Look, it’s just an act, right? So you apologize after. But Mike, you know how this goes. Hell, we’ve had to upset victims on the stand so the sick bastards who hurt them can be put away.”

“Yeah, but Brian, this is just a game. Reality’s different.”

“No, it’s not. Look. I don’t like these games, I’m never gonna be more than a Bureau Chief because I’m like the guy who taught me; I want to get the job done, and go home to my family. I don’t give a shit about the politics. You’re kind of like me, which is why I can’t believe you went corporate. But my old boss, Alex? She wanted to be a politician. So did Billy, one of the guys I worked with, though he kinda grew out of it. And what I got from them is you go in for the kill, even if it screws over one of your people. I’ll tell you what Alex pulled on one of the other ADAs in my office sometime.” He leans forward. “Don’t you let those pansy-ass rich kids kick you out, man. King’s County’ll never live it down.”

Mike laughs, raising his milkshake in a toast. “Yes, sir. So, if this were your case…”

“Break her.”

Mike had already been thinking along those lines, but he needed someone to say it. Now that Brian has, well…

Brian’s the guy who told him to keep a survival kit of travel-size toiletries and protein-laden snacks that don’t spoil in his desk drawer along with the folded spare suit. He’s also the guy that got Mike into drinking Red Bull on the first all-nighter they pulled together. If Brian’s pointing him on the same path Mike’s instincts have him thinking, well, that’s the path he takes.

“So who are your other witnesses?” Brian asks as the waitress tops up his coffee.

“Uh, there’s Jenny -”

“Your pothead buddy’’s girlfriend? Tell me you’re not -”

“Brian, give me some credit. I mean, maybe if she broke up with Trevor but she says she wants to work things out. Do I like her? Yeah. But I don’t poach, you know that. And the other witness is Donna. She’s Harvey’s secretary, and possibly a spy.”

“Why a spy?” Brian asks.

“She knows everything about everyone, it’s kind of scary. One of these days there may be a headline about Donna Paulsen taking over somewhere, it would not surprise me at all.”

“Wait - that name… Your boss is Harvey… What?”

Mike tilts his head, curious. “Specter. Why?”

Brian shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Just… Something about those names, together, it sounds familiar but I can’t place it. Probably nothing.”

Mike isn’t as sure of that as Brian is but it doesn’t really matter right now anyway.

\---

Harvey doesn’t stay at the Harvard Club for long after Scottie leaves him at the bar. He can’t stay there. But he isn’t really up for going home either. He considers going back to the office, but he ends up at another bar, one of those on a side street where someone in a suit like his should stick out like a sore thumb. But most people who come here just want to drink, so no one gives a shit.

Not even familiar faces.

Harvey means to ignore Mike, and surprisingly Mike makes it easy. He just sits on his stool and drinks his beer, like Harvey is drinking his whiskey. And it's actually Harvey who breaks first, in the end.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating your win today?" At least he doesn't owe Louis money on top of everything else.

Mike laughs. "Celebrate? One of the only people at work I actually like is furious with me. For the sake of a game." He shrugs, draining his beer. "Shouldn't you be celebrating your win?"

"Please. This was nothing." He tries to sound dismissive, but it comes out hollow. It's obvious that something's going on, even to a slightly-tipsy Mike, judging by his concerned look. "Don't you start - caring all over me."

"I'm just here to drink," Mike says, saluting him with the empty beer bottle. He gets another one as Harvey watches, seemingly proving his point. And, again, Harvey’s the one who can’t take the quiet. He blames the whiskey - scotch is better for brooding, really, because whiskey makes him chatty given someone to talk to.

“She’s getting married.” Shit, he hadn’t meant to bring that up. Mike sets his bottle down and looks sidelong at Harvey.

“Top of her class lady? Scottie?”

Harvey chuckles a little at the label, then shakes his head, draining his glass. “Apparently the guy asked her a month ago, and she just decided she’s saying yes when she gets back. Sex with me is an indicator it’s time to marry someone else? And what kind of a name is Steve anyway?” Truth is, Harvey doesn’t even know why he’s angry. His feelings for Scottie have always been complicated - he loves her, on some level, but… They’re too alike, and too different, and they live on different continents now.

When they were in school together their rivalry only added spice to their relationship, but if they had given it a shot as adults, would it have done the same thing or just been… exhausting? Not that he’ll ever know because they never got the chance and now they never will.

“Captain America’s name is Steve,” Mike comments, and Harvey gets what the lame joke is for. An attempt to lighten the mood, if even for a moment. So Harvey offers a weak smile.

“Yeah, but the guy’s probably English.”

“Oh. I don’t know any famous British Steves, sorry.”

“No, no, nice try.” Harvey looks down into his glass. He really should stop, the whiskey isn’t even good. “I’ve got better beer than the shit you’re drinking,” he hears himself say, not looking up for a moment. When he does, Mike’s looking at him, wide-eyed and surprised. He looks impossibly young like that, and even through the hurt and anger left by Scottie’s words - and the hope that this Steve is worthy of her, someone who can make her happy, which only confuses him more - he feels a jolt of… something. He’s not entirely sure he wants to admit to himself just what that is.

“Probably some kind of fancy microbrew,” Mike teases. “But all right, let’s see if you’re right. Though last time I showed up tipsy at your door you slammed it in my face, remember?”

“One, you showed up hammered at my door. Two, I’m inviting you over this time. Not the same thing, puppy.”

“I think you take that analogy way too seriously sometimes, dude.”

The rest of the night is something of a blur, though Harvey’s pretty sure he insists they watch the first three episodes of the original Star Trek, because Mike having no Trek knowledge seems like a terrible, terrible crime when he’s got another two glasses of whiskey in him. Harvey wakes up the next morning on his couch, feet dangling off it. Mike, like the puppy he insists he’s not, is sprawled on the floor with one of the couch pillows under his head - barely visible because for some reason, he’s got his suit jacket over his face.

Harvey rolls his eyes and decides that it’s Saturday, he’s got a hangover, his associate’s not dead, so he’s going back to sleep.

When he wakes up again there’s coffee made, a bottle of Advil left open on his kitchen counter, and a note from Mike saying he’s sorry to run out like a one-night-stand but he needs to go see his grandmother. Harvey dry-swallows the Advil even though he drains a mug of coffee right after, and spends the rest of the day watching Game of Thrones.

Because he’s pretty sure he agreed to watch it if Mike watched Star Trek, and it keeps him from thinking about the look in Scottie’s eyes when she said she was getting married.

\---

The week has been hellish, between Harvey acting weird after they ran into Cameron Dennis, Harvey then betting him away to Louis for nothing, and losing to Louis which resulted in Mike being loaned out to various partners for their grunt work. Possibly the only bright spot is that the other associates seem to be on his side - none of them want to think they might be the next ones treated like a thing to toss on a gaming table, Mike figures. All in all, Mike’s pretty glad to see the weekend.

He almost forgets he’s due at Brian and Christina’s for Jake Hendricks’ retirement party, but a text from Christina reminds him. Jake was the oldest guy in their office, somehow still fully believing in the system after thirty years, but refusing to ever be anyone’s boss. Mike doesn’t intend to miss it.

He lets Jake rib him a little for selling out to the corporate bloodsuckers, teases him in turn about his plans to live on a boat in the Gulf of Mexico, and settles in with a beer.

“So how goes corporate America?” Mike glances over, smiling as Christina Finn-Peluso settles in next to him. She’s still a freckled redhead from Wisconsin on the outside, not someone people would automatically peg as an assistant bureau chief in Manhattan. Which might be part of why he likes her so much, come to think of it.

“Not bad. Had a weird run-in with your boss’ boss,” Mike says, even though he’d meant to not think about any of the week’s events tonight.

“Cameron Dennis?” There’s some kind of edge to the way Chris says his name, and Mike glances sidelong at her.

“Yeah. Something wrong?”

“He just made a deal to step down, Mike. He was burying evidence in cases for years."

Mike freezes. He thinks about Harvey's fake levity when they ran into Dennis, Donna telling him to let it go, walking into Harvey's office and realizing he'd interrupted something big with him and Donna. "Harvey was -"

"His golden boy." Brian must have popped up without Mike noticing, standing on Chris' other side. "I remember now. I was green as anything, I wasn't even trying cases yet but everyone knows when big shit goes down on the seventh floor. Specter jumping ship for private practice just when Dennis was gonna name him chief litigator? Big news. That he took the admin who all the secretaries on all the floors knew only made it bigger. I can't believe I didn't make the connection sooner."

Mike feels sick. "Harvey doesn't broadcast he's an ex-ADA. Rachel and I had to dig to find the records. And Harvey's been... Weird. We ran into Dennis early in the week, he and Harvey met for dinner, and shit got weird after that."

Chris and Brian exchange looks. "Then either he knew and left because he didn't want to rat out his boss but couldn't stay knowing this, or..." Chris trails off.

"Or he was involved, got scared, and ran," Brian says flatly. "Mike, you might want to reconsider your job choices."

Mike actually wonders, for a moment. Harvey does like to win, and he's not above bending the rules to do so. But then Mike remembers Travis Tanner. Remembers that Harvey will bluff anything he thinks will work, but he's got lines he won't, in truth, cross. And anyway, he likes to win because he's the best, not because he's playing with loaded dice. "He wasn't involved."

"Not directly, maybe. But Mike," Chris says gently, "they think Cameron fiddled with cases he didn't try. Cases he wasn't even directly involved with. Our old bosses, Alex and Jim? I had lunch with them, they're seething. If he messed with cases our group had..."

"He messed with Harvey's, whether Harvey knew or not." Technically Mike isn't available to Harvey for another eight days, but he's seen the boxes of case files in Harvey's office.

Shit.

"I gotta go."

"Mike." Brian catches his wrist. "You don't want to be part of this."

"Brian. Harvey wouldn't have done this. If he's looking over things... I'm his guy. And you know me well enough to know that means I already am part of this." Brian, after all, taught him about loyalty right alongside how to prosecute, the benefits of Red Bull, and the need for a survival kit.

Neither of them stop him this time.

  
Brian and Chris live in Queens, so Mike hailed a cab to get there from Williamsburg. Good thing too, because he doesn’t much like the idea of biking to the Upper West Side from here. The last time he was here he was drunk, but he remembers the way well enough. And the doorman knows him - which proves, really, that he’s allowed to be here. Maybe grudgingly, but Harvey put his name on the list of people who can be let up.

So, really, the glare he gets when Harvey opens the door to see him is unwarranted. “I’m completely sober this time, I swear,” he says, which is true because whatever effect half a bottle of beer may have had is definitely worn off by now.

“That’s great. Why are you here?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I know why you’ve been off the last few days.” Mike cranes his neck to see boxes of case files over Harvey’s shoulder. “And why you have all those boxes.”

“Good for you.” Harvey goes to close the door but Mike catches it.

“I heard Dennis just got removed under suspicion that he was tampering with evidence. He messed with some of your cases, didn’t he?” It’s phrased as a question even though Mike already knows the answer.

“If you already know, then why ask? Why even be here at all?”

“Because I want to help.” Harvey tries to close the door again and Mike rolls his eyes. “Come on, Harvey. I might not have worked at that office with you, but I’ve been an ADA, I think I know how to look for evidence tampering. And you and I both know you’ll get through that stuff faster with help, and a fresh pair of eyes is never a bad thing. Let me help.”

Harvey steps back to let him in, but Mike senses he hasn’t won just yet. “This doesn’t have a damn thing to do with you, kid. It’s my responsibility.”

Mike’s silent for a long moment, just studying Harvey. He looks like hell, to put it mildly. Like he’s been forgetting such niceties as sleep, for one thing. “Harvey, you didn’t -”

“Didn’t what, Mike? Didn’t send people to jail who might not have deserved it? Yeah, I did. I already found four cases that were tampered with and -”

“Not by you! You didn’t do this, Cameron Dennis did.”

Harvey rolls his eyes, then, unexpectedly, drops onto his sofa like his strings had been cut or something. Rubbing his temples, he says, “That doesn’t matter, Mike. It was my job to see this, to figure out what was going on, and I was with him for nearly two years before -” He breaks off, turning to stare out his window. The view here is even nicer than the one from his office, but from the set of his jaw Mike doesn’t think Harvey sees the city lights at all.

“You trusted him, didn’t you?” Mike sits on the leather armchair across from the couch it matches, eyes on Harvey, voice soft. “Looked up to him, maybe?”

“He was my mentor,” Harvey says, eyes still fixed on the window. “You heard him. He taught me everything I know. He’s wrong - Jessica taught me a good bit after him - but at the same time he’s not.”

“So you wanted to believe in him. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh no?”

“No.”

“Mike, in case you didn’t notice, my believing in Cameron meant I didn’t notice he was burying evidence, making all our convictions easy to overturn if someone found out, maybe sending people to jail when they didn’t fucking deserve it. How can you say that’s not wrong?”

“I’m saying you didn’t do anything wrong,” Mike says, fighting an urge to make Harvey look at him, to make him understand. “I’m saying - I’d be the same way, with you or with Brian. I get how you felt.” Except… There’s something wrong with the analogy somewhere, because Brian and Harvey aren’t quite the same to Mike. Brian’s like a brother, Harvey is... It doesn’t matter right now, Mike can analyze his different reactions (or not) later. The point is the same anyway. “I’d be blinded to it too, if it was one of you. I’m saying, Cameron cheated those people and by doing it on your cases he betrayed you at the same time. This isn’t your fault, Harvey.”

Harvey scoffs. "It comes to the same thing, Mike." He is still for a long moment, then lashes out, knocking one of the boxes off the table. Files spill everywhere, and Mike jumps. Harvey is on his feet suddenly, pacing. "It still ends with me putting people in jail who didn't deserve it!"

Mike stands, putting himself in Harvey's path. "Odds are they still -"

"Not all of them!" Harvey shouts. "There's one - I've gone through all of them by now. I put a boy in jail, a fucking high school kid, for murder. So don't tell me I did nothing wrong, Mike!"

Oh God. Mike feels sick. "You're going to try and get it overturned, aren't you?"

"For what good it'll do."

"It's something." More than Cameron would ever do, even knowing he was wrong, Mike suspects. "And you're not going to have to do it alone."

Harvey looks at him, studies him carefully. "No?"

Mike has to smile. "Like I'd let you."

\---

The sun is hitting his face from the wrong angle. Grumbling, Harvey turns into his pillow - wait, this isn't his pillow. Opening his eyes, he groans; he fell asleep on the couch again. Except how did the blanket from his linen closet get here?

Last he recalls, he and Mike were going over - wait. Mike. Harvey turns his head toward the armchair, where his associate is curled like a cat, worn leather jacket covering his head. There's a file in his lap, like he fell asleep reading. Presumably after getting the blanket for Harvey.

Harvey checks his watch. Nine am. He gets up, stretching out the kinks, thinking he'll shower - it's late to go for his run. He stops, though, grabbing the blanket and draping it over Mike.

Stubborn kid.

Harvey makes coffee and toasts a bagel, and is contemplating filling a glass with cold water to dump on Mike’s head when the younger man sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Ow,” Mike mutters, and Harvey smirks at him.

“That’s what you get for sleeping in a chair. Who said you could stay over?” The mockery is still weaker than it usually is, but Mike rolls his eyes and glares like everything’s normal.

“Your chair is better than your couch at least,” he fires back, trying to smooth down his impressive bedhead.

“Maybe your hair would stick up less if you didn’t cover your head,” Harvey suggests mildly, wondering if it’s just at his place Mike does that. Maybe it’s about the windows? But from the shadow that crosses Mike’s face, he’s going to guess not.

“Old habit from my days in the system,” Mike says, voice deliberately careless. “Got an extra bagel?”

“I might,” Harvey says. “I even have coffee.” He hands Mike a cup, then says, “You know, this really isn’t your fight.”

Mike looks up from dumping an unsettlingly large amount of sugar in his coffee. “Don’t be an idiot. This is what you hired me for, remember? To back you up.”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “Actually, Mike, I hired you because Jessica made me hire an associate, and you were marginally less boring than the others.” He sips his own coffee, letting the familiar banter soothe some of his frayed nerves. He never had this with Cameron, which means Cameron was wrong when he called Mike Harvey’s Harvey. And so was Mike, using the same term.

He’ll do better than Cameron, be better, like Jessica showed him a mentor could be. He won’t leave Mike out to dry the way Cameron did to him. And truth is, that hurts as much as anything - Harvey went against his own morals to protect Cameron, and Cameron was willing to let him take the fall. Harvey can’t be like that, he won’t be like that. He’s not Cameron, he’s not.

And he’ll fix this case, he’ll get Clifford Danner out. It’s enough, isn’t it? Enough to fix some of what went wrong here, the mess Cameron made and tricked Harvey into helping him make?

“Harvey?” Mike’s voice is soft, almost a part of Harvey’s thoughts until there’s a warm hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to make this right,” Mike continues, an echo of what Harvey’s telling himself but with a quiet faith Harvey himself can’t muster. Did he used to be like that? He can’t remember, not really.

“They teach you that at Hudson?” is what he says, finally, raising an eyebrow.

“No, Brian taught me that, and you did. We can pull this off.”

It’s strange, but Harvey believes him. And they sit at the breakfast bar in his kitchen with coffee and bagels and the Clifford Danner files spread around, looking for all the ways they can turn this around. In the back of Harvey’s mind he keeps hearing the teenage boy Clifford was ten years ago insisting that he and Jill Hodgkins were secretly dating, that he never would have hurt her. He thinks about Jason Black and Matt Bailey, their crocodile tears and how they must have laughed about it. Or maybe they were just relieved. Who knows?

What matters is they have the letter proving the relationship. What matters is they have blood that isn’t Clifford’s on the dress Jill died in. Harvey is the best closer in this city - Jessica said so herself - and he was a damn good prosecutor in his day. And Mike? Well, Brian Peluso was not happy to lose him, and his record’s almost as good as Harvey’s once upon a time.

Maybe the kid’s got a point. Maybe they can fix this. And no, Harvey realizes, to answer his earlier question. It’s not enough, nothing will ever be enough. But it’s something. It’s more than Cameron would have done, and that’s enough to be going on with.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This first fic is essentially my season one - it ends a bit earlier because half the plot of 2.01 doesn't exist, so I needed things to do.


End file.
